


Conscience and Concern

by 1lostone



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: And a teeeeeeny bit more of angst, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday fic for FoxyK, Episode: s01e10 Dagger of the Mind, Episode: s01e11 Miri, Episode: s01e12 The Conscience of the King, M/M, Soul Bond, T'hy'la, Tarsus IV, Tarsus IV aftermath, The Mature rating might get upped to Explicit, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many of Spock's trends towards illogical thinking can be attributed to one James T. Kirk, <i>highly</i> illogical being.</p><p> </p><p>Events prior, during and after The Conscience of the King, with a reboot twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxyk/gifts).



> Sequel to this [ Kirk/Khan fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/818696) , and refers to events that happen there. :) Reboot of Conscience of the King. Angst and some er.. slut shaming? I guess? Spock isn’t thrilled with Jim’s sexual choices. :D Anything else will be warned in the end notes.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Fucking _Stardates._ *weeps and rends hair* Some lovely people tried to help me parse through them. I think we're close, but please excuse any discrepancies with a vat full of grains of salt. Essentially, post ST:ID, the _Enterprise_ left on Stardate 2260.45 (the 45 is the 45th day of the year. Any numbers after that would be the time in 00:00 format.).
> 
> I hope I'm close on Pavel's Russian. Please let me know if I goofed.
> 
> Thanks to **FoxyK** for being the bestest beta a girl could have, and double-super-special thanks to **aruna** for being willing to beta a fic that's for my beta! Betaception!

**_Captain’s Log. Stardate_ _2260.83_**

_I had another dream. Nothing that would send Bones running for a hypo, but I’m finding that I can’t quite shake the image of how much Miri and her ‘onlies’ needed us. She was just this kid, trying to do her best for the kids she was looking after, and all the gods know that I get what that feels like. I’ve been her. I know how it is to have that moment of mistrust; not quite knowing if the ‘grups’ that come to save you are really there for your best interests. Bones was pretty messed up, after. It’s always bad when it’s kids that get hurt- and the fact that someone was experimenting on kids is pretty shitty. I think it hit home that five years out here is going to mean that he’s missing five whole years of Jojo’s life. Spock was kind of a dick--_

“Computer. Delete that last sentence.”

“Affirmative.”

Jim sighed, pinching the top of his nose.  Spock wasn’t being a dick. That was unfair, and unprofessional to say. It was probably xenophobic as well, but Jim knew that wasn’t his issue. He wasn’t speciesist.

To say that things were tense for the first few months of their first five-year mission was putting it mildly.

Spock hadn’t spoken to him outside of work-related conversations since the _Enterprise_ took to the black. Jim knew what he’d done with Khan had been probably not his best idea- but he’s gotten the information he’d wanted out of it. The sex has been a bit surprising, but it wasn’t why he’d gone there. It wasn’t like he’d paid for information with sex, and a good time had been had by two consenting adults.

It helped that the compulsion to see Khan had slowly fizzed out once Starfleet had gotten off his ass and knocked Khan back to popsiclehood. According to the records Jim had hacked, Khan had even gone quietly. It seemed that the knowledge that his people were unharmed had turned him... well. Jim wouldn’t ever call _Khan_ docile, but he hadn’t taken the rest of the ‘Fleet out in a blaze of glory either. Jim had had some weird dreams, but that was to be expected.

Probably.

It was like he and Spock had gone back to that rivalry they’d had going on after Jim had cheated on Spock’s test. Spock would not eat with him anymore. He wouldn’t even discuss _work_ over a meal. Spock rarely joined Jim and any other of the bridge crew for meals. To date, Spock had sat like a Vulcan statue when Jim had joined him and Uhura their first week out. The Vulcan had spoken to Scotty and Chekov about ship matters, talking almost over Jim’s head, despite the fact he’d been sitting in between the two men. The last time, even Sulu had picked up on the fact that Spock wasn’t happy with the company. Jim hadn’t been able to take the confused looks shot at him, and had excused himself to go work on paperwork in his ready room.

If nothing else, his efficiency had improved by 12%.

The problem was- Jim was just about done with trying to get Spock to come out of this funk. He was sick of being rebuffed, or downright ignored when he asked Spock to play chess, or to discuss a ‘Fleet news report out of the scope of one of their missions.   

Jim made a face and continued his report, trying to keep his personal shit out of ship’s business.

********

**_Personal Log of CMO Leonard McCoy, Stardate 2260.111.14_ **

_I never thought I’d have reason to thank that asshole, but if Khan wasn’t a damn icicle, I’d probably buy him a goddamn drink. Even with Jim’s new superblood, he was still susceptible to that woman’s mindfuckery. I’ve done some preliminary analysis, and comparing Jim’s mental signature pre-Khan and post-Khan, I just don’t see how he woulda been able to fight off the effects of that neuralizer. Not for nothin’, but Jim would have been less fucked over if he and Noel had actually fucked. Noel’s suggestions were not kind, but she’s hardly the first to have a bit of wishful thinking when it comes to James “Tomcat” Kirk.The fact that she lied to him hit him a little harder than he expected. The fact that that Adams fucker could use it to try to make Jim think he was in love with her shook him up. I made a note that mind rape is still rape, but Jim shook it off. Says he’s fine._

_We’ll see._

_It wasn’t the Christmas Jim had been hoping for. He’d tried to get everythi_ _ng squared away for a celebration that wouldn’t be offensive to any of the 74 different cultures living on the Enterprise. He’d worked really closely with Nyota, and it was a helluva party. Probably the only two beings on the whole damn ship that didn’t enjoy it overly much was Jim and the damn hobgoblin. I might have to monitor that. Seems like Spock’s been a bit miffed at Jim. Nothin’ I can put my finger on, but we all saw him running through the ship when Scott told him to get down to engineering, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget his face hovering in the background when I was working on bringing Jimmy back to the land of the living. Still, that’s his business. Spock wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouthful, so gettin’ something out of him that he doesn’t want to talk about will be a bit of a trick. I can maybe ask Nyota. See if she can talk him into heading this way. We’re off to chart some unexplored space. That’ll put him in a good mood, as much as anything would, I guess._

_Anyway, I guess it all worked out as well as could be expected in the end. Jimmy’ll be alright. He just needs a few days off, which he’s had. I’ll schedule him for a more thorough examination in a few days. It’s time for his quarterly physical anyway._

****

Jim's PADD beeped, flashing a message.

 

**_Transmission Sent: Scott, Montgomery_ **

**_Stardate 2260.120.22_ **

**_Received: Kirk, James T._ **

The sound of feedback is loud. When Jim keys in the sequence that allows Scotty's message to come through, it sounds as though his engineer is standing right in front of him. 

 ** _"STOP BLOWIN’ UP MY BLOODY SHIP!_ ** _Didn’t your mum ever tell you to take care of your toys?_

 _I dinna understand why m’ship has to suffer on account of Bailey makin’ some poor choices, but Would it be too much to ask Captain James T. Perfect Hair for a week where we didn't needta refurbish something from an evil alien race, or shockwave from some weird cubic Whatever the_ hell _that was knocks us out of orbit, putting my lass in danger? Keenser agrees. And if Keenser agrees, then you can bet your sodding arse that it’s an issue. We’ve got little over four and a half more years out here. Just give me a bit o’ time t’make my Lady purr, huh? Call it a New Year’s present if you need te. Although, I do appreciate you getting that wanker off the ship."_

Jim sighed and pinched the top of his nose as he shut off the transmission. Maybe Bones had a hypo or something for headaches.

********

“Jim?”

Jim jumped, jarred out of his contemplation of the star charts Spock had sent him. Nyota’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, maybe because the small observation deck was so peaceful. The large glass window showed a multi-colored dust cloud, with a multitude of stars and the hint of a small moon off in the distance. The _Enterprise_ held her orbit around a small Class M planet, waiting for Starfleet to issue their orders. The nebula, which had been caused due to a small planetary seismic event causing the small dustball to explode, had sent most of the Science team into paroxysms of joy. The fact that they were likely going to need to spend at least five days dirtside had made the usually quiet science crew start to casually mention camping experience and specialization qualifications, as through Jim weren’t already perfectly aware what his crew could do. It was only gamma shift, but Jim had a small away team scheduled to beam down to take more readings dirtside. They were essentially waiting on the electrical storm to clear so that they could safely beam down to the planet. Jim’s PADD beeped, and he looked down, reading the orders from Starfleet.

Nyota’s boot heel clacked on the deck, and Jim blinked, realizing that he had not responded to her greeting. He threw a half-smile at her, knowing it was a pale shadow of his customary leer. She walked over to where Jim sat and seated herself tilting her head and looking at him. “Spock is going to be here in a minute.”

 _That_ caused Jim to sit up from his sprawl, blinking at her in stupification. “Why?” Jim blurted, feeling as though he’d been blindsided.

“Because I think that the two of you need to talk.”

“I don’t think....”

“I do.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Now, I know you and I aren’t friends. But I also know that we’ve come a long way since Riverside.” Her lips quirked  up at the ends and Jim found himself echoing her small smile. That was true enough. They _had_ come a long way. “And for all of that, you also know that I care about you, Jim.”

Jim nodded. She did, and he was appreciative of the fact.

“Spock and I... well. That’s a whole other story. He and I _are_ friends.” She took a deep breath. “You know that we ended our....” She trailed off, dropping her gaze “Relationship. Amicably, or at least as amicably as a Vulcan can end an intimate connection.”

Jim had absolutely _not_ known that and found himself fumbling to try to keep his face impassive. It wouldn’t have fooled Spock, or Bones, but Nyota didn’t know him quite as well and didn't seem to notice. 

“But even with that- I still... I still _care_ , Jim. I care about Spock.” Jim had been in enough awkward reaming-by-a-superior officer meetings to recognize the uncomfortable look on Nyota’s face. He frowned a little, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Or in this case, boot heel.

“I think you should talk to him, Jim. I don’t know what has happened between the two of you, but I think it... I mean, I don’t _want_ to know really. Please don’t think that I’m prying.” She stood up and walked three steps to the door. It was abrupt enough that it sent alarm bells clanging in the back of Jim’s head. “-- which is why Spock will be here in a minute and a half.” She bit her lip and looked down at the deck floor.

Jim scrambled up, making it to his feet and to the door just as she slid through. He had a moment to acknowledge a feeling of pure, unadulterated cowardice before Spock stepped calmly through the door and into the room.

The timing brought Spock a lot closer to Jim than he’d anticipated. He was unprepared for the funny sort of flutter his stomach gave, or for the way all of the air seemed to bleed out of the small observation room like water through a sieve. It had been so long since the two of them had been this close without some sort of emergency going on that Jim found his skin almost seemed to tingle in anticipation. Which... well. That was weird.

It wasn’t like he and Spock _touched._

“Spock. Hello.” Jim mentally floundered a little, before turning and walking back to the couch, feeling weirdly out of his element. He sat down with a very tone-downed version of his customary sprawl and indicated the chair that Nyota just vacated. Maybe since she went through all the trouble to set this up, that meant that she knew Spock was finally willing to talk.

“Captain.” Spock almost seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat before moving to sit down. He was the picture of Vulcan control. Jim was pretty certain that Spock’s back didn’t actually curve. “Is there a new regulation of which I am unaware?”

Jim blinked. “Uh... what?”

Spock’s eyebrow rose. “Lieutenant Uhura was most insistent that we had matters of ship’s business to discuss. She is unaware that we have been communicating via ship’s communication for the past several missions; therefore, I can only conclude that you wish to discuss personal issues. I am unaware of any such regulation that calls for using the ship’s communication officer to- to use the human vernacular- _lie_ for them.”  Spock delivered this impassively, with hardly any inflection to his voice., except where he called Jim a liar. Spock seemed to have no problem thinking that Jim would be so unprofessional as to use one of his bridge crew to essentially pass notes for him.

It pissed him off, actually.

“Actually, Spock, I did have ship’s business to discuss with you.” Jim knew his grin was more of a condescending smirk. So did Spock, if by the way he tensed up just the slightest bit more was any indication.

“Proceed.”

Jim didn’t hesitate. This wasn’t at all what he had been thinking to do; in fact, the very opposite, but Spock’s behavior clearly wasn’t going to change and Jim was tired of trying. Spock didn’t owe him anything. If they never spoke about what had happened when he died, then that was just fine with Jim. If Spock was more interested in being angry then going back to that easy camaraderie that had been just out of their grasp when dealing with Khan then that was his right. He certainly didn’t owe Jim anything. Jim didn’t particularly want to give up, but he was fucking _tired_ of always being on the defensive.

“You will remain on the ship as acting Captain while Chekov and I beam down to the planet. We’ll take a small away team with us to help with recording the data of course.” Jim rubbed his hands on his thighs and stood up. “It’s time that Chekov got some away team experience.”

Spock stood, barely a half second behind Jim. “Negative. You will allow me, as Science officer...”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Bullshit.”

Spock actually stopped, mid-sentence. He blinked twice, rapidly, as though he couldn’t quite believe that Jim had interrupted him.

“Your duties, _Commander_ , are to this ship and its crew when I am on an away mission. And, since I’m the Captain, and this might shock you to realize, _I_ get to decide who goes and who stays.  As for the Science officer, Carol is already looking forward to getting her hands on a tricorder. So you’re not needed.”

Jim got to watch Spock become a Vulcan statue again. The undercurrent of rage was there, but tamped down. Deliberately. Jim knew what Spock’s rage felt like unchecked. It had taken him two weeks for Bones to repair the damage Jim’s throat had taken the last time he’d pushed hard enough to piss Spock off.

“‘Fleet has just given us our orders. While the away team is on the planet, you will take the ship to Starbase 93 to resupply, and then to the colony on Heja- IV. The timing is just about perfect. Few days there, few days back, and we have our wholly undiscovered planet to play around with.” Jim reached down for his PADD, accidentally brushing against Spock’s arm as he did so. Spock actually jerked back, taking a small step away from Jim.

“Here.” Jim tapped the screen a few times. “I’ve sent you your orders.” He cocked his head, staring at Spock, who still had not spoken. “Thank you for taking the time to meet me. Dismissed, Commander.”

Not even a pissy Spock would refuse a direct order. Spock nodded once, sharply in acknowledgement, then walked out of the small observation deck. The doors, of course, didn’t slam, but they might as well have.  

It was pretty cowardly of him to let this go on and on for so long. The running joke in Starfleet was that the command team was like a marriage. Well, in Pike’s situation, it _was_ a marriage. Thinking of Number One made Jim think of Pike, which made Jim remember what he and Khan had done and the guilt was. He took a deep breath. The guilt was there. It wasn’t ever going to go anywhere. Hell, even as much as six months ago, he’d been able to laugh off  what he and Khan had done in that brig. But now- no. All this time to think had made Jim... well. _Think_. Sometimes Jim could keep it pushed way down deep in his psyche, but he’d found that lately, it had been more and more difficult to ignore. He’d gotten off with someone who had killed the closest thing Jim had ever had for a father. He’d gotten off with the man who had brutally broken Carol’s leg before crushing her dad’s skull like a melon in front of her eyes. The man who’d murdered thousands. Who had almost killed Sp---.

Jim winced.

While the other part of his mind might argue that there _had_ been some pull there almost a compulsion- the way his blood had _sang_ when he came into touching distance of Khan, or that Khan had consistently reacted to people who had used his family against him and therefore his actions _could_ be understood, if never, ever justified- neither of those things changed the facts.  

Spock despised him. They were both stuck together for the rest of their five-year mission, and Spock utterly, completely loathed him. At least the human part of him did. The Vulcan just ignored him, stoically.

Jim snorted, breaking the peaceful silence of the observation deck.

The thing of it was- Jim couldn’t blame him. Spock fell back on regulations and professionalism because this was his job, and he was exceedingly good at it. Being personable, or the Vulcan version of personable with your shipmates was encouraged, but it wasn’t insisted upon by any rule or regulation. And Spock did have friends here on the Enterprise; colleagues who hadn’t broken his trust.

So, no. Jim couldn’t blame Spock for hating him.

Jim hated himself, too.

********

_“I, eh. I do not know the Stardate. My head is still wrong from landing. The Keptin and Doctor Marcus have both said I am not to go to sleep, without them to wake me. I. I do not think it will be long now. Keptin does not respond to me shaking his shoulder. The Doctor sleeps too much. I do not know how much power this has, or if it is transmitting.”_

The voice trails off into broken Russian, catching on a sob.

_“We have been here for many days. I am only one able to make a report, and I know it is my duty, but it does not seem wery fair to me that this is how the great Keptin Kirk should perish. He is great man, my Keptin. He saved us so many times that I wish I could do something for ----’_

The words fade out into feedback and static. Eventually, they come back.

_“I do not know where Enterprise is. I send this out so the brilliant Nyota will find it and perhaps we have funerals. So many, many funerals already for Keptin’s crew. Ensign Morks, and Lieutenant Lasheeda did not survive the initial explosion. The Keptin tried to save them, but it was too fast. Rockslide, probably from unstable seismic activity. They slid down, down, down and we could no longer see their bodies. I do not think I will forget their screams. Such, loud, loud screams when they burn. Keptin lost pack, tricorder, phaser, and almost his life, hanging from those rocks. I did not know how it was possible for human to take such pain. Carol and I thought he fell to his death, and made our way to what we thought would be safe shelter.”_

Sookin syn! _Now of course I wish we would have just stayed there. Great crack of the rocks splitting, and down we go. The doctor’s pack only had science equipment. No food, no water. We landed on it, and much broke beyond either of our ability to repair. Mine had quarter rations, as was protocol, so that no one person would have all of our water and food, but it ripped and the food was lost. We were very happy to have the Keptin show up to us. His legs are broken. There appears to be something wrong with his back, and he has concussion. He made it to us though and that gives me hope. I have attempted to boost signal from the scraps of Doctor Marcus’ equipment, and can only pray.”_

Pavel sighs. He knows he is severely dehydrated, as they all are. He feels boiled alive from the heat of the magma that shifts so far below and knows that heat has escalated the symptoms of dehydration.

_“Keptin only took a miniscule amount of water. He insisted that Carol and I share the remains, and says that his new blood will heal him. I think he is liar. His new blood has not healed his many injuries sustained when attempting to save the rest of our team, or trying to get back to us when we fell into the fissure. But I am grateful, because I do not wish to die. Even now, with the Keptin breathing so slowly, and Carol’s head in my lap- She only sleeps so much it frightens me-, I do not wish to die.”_

_“Still, the quiet is sometimes a comfort. My stomach has stopped asking for food, and I do not know why this seems to hurt Keptin Kirk more than any other thing that has happened to us. He has not woken up in several hours though. I feel wery alone.”_

There is a terrible whine of feedback and static, and the sound is muffled. The sound came back after several minutes. The sound of Pavel’s voice is shaky and weak.

_“It will not be.... long now. Not even... the great Commander Spock can find us... with this storm.  I can not tell if I am still... recording.”_

A stifled sob is clearly heard.  

 _“_ Mamochka _, ya lyublyu tebya. I am.... so sorry to leave you. Starfleet... was all I hoped. Adventure and friendship. I am pleased to have... served. Hikaru... thank you. You are such a special person and my dearest friend. “_

There is quiet on the line for several minutes.

_“Commander Spock. Please... know... know that I am so sorry for not saving your own mother. I am so, wery sorry for that. Please... forgive me.”_

The voice is very faint, and very, very young-sounding. When he spoke again, the pauses between words were very long, as though its speaker was fading out and slowly back in.

_“This is. Ensign. Chekov, Pavel.... Andreievich.  Serial number 656-5...8...2...7...B, signin---”_

The communication cut off with an abrupt screech of feedback, then silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is a bday fic for the lovely **FoxyK** , I would like to dedicate this chapter to my absolute favorite jackass. <3\. You know who you are.
> 
> Thanks to Moit for the beta, and Jen for holding my hand :D

 

_Ship’s Log, Stardate 2260.141.01  Acting Captain, Commander Spock._

 

_“Doctor McCoy has informed me that the Captain will be released from Medical Leave in Two-point-six-three hours. He assures me that Captain Kirk is awake and performing adequately although is currently resting comfortably.”_

 

Spock broke off his communication abruptly, finding the mere words insufficient to communicate his sense of... gratification that the Captain was indeed well enough to come back to duty.  If Spock were being completely honest with himself (as a Vulcan he was ruthless, but as a human he was... weak), he would find that remaining completely ambivalent to Jim’s subsequent brush with death impossible.

 

The shattered dilithium crystals had made the _Enterprise’s_ delay most unfortunate. Stalled as they were in space, thrown out of warp so brutally that the ship’s gravitational sensors had needed to be recalibrated, it had taken the crew of the Enterprise almost fourteen full Terran days to return to the small planet on which the away team had been left to investigate.

 

They had been light years out when Nyota had picked up the Ensign’s pitiful message.  Nyota had turned to look at him after it had played out, her beautiful brown eyes swimming with tears, and it was only then that Spock had become aware that he had gripped the sides of the Captain’s chair so tightly that the metal had shifted under the force of his fingers. Spock knew that he had once again been emotionally compromised, and the shame of such knowledge was hard to parse through. What remained of his shields fluctuated. Spock’s reactions were appalling, and he  found his own weakness to be unacceptable.

 

Ensign Chekov’s description of what happened on the planet, the misery with which they suffered, and a shining certainty that Jim _was not dead_ had caused Spock to ignore regulations and put the _entire_ ship at risk. He had prepared a report for Jim’s eventual perusal and fully expected the reprimand of his actions to be severe. Lieutenant Commander Scott had been most vocal in his disapproval of Spock’s command decision to push the _Enterprise_ to warp seven, after hastily patched dilithium breakage, to make it to the small planet in time. They picked up three life signs. One was extremely faint, and caused McCoy to snap that they be beamed directly to sickbay. The other two were in slightly better shape. After that initial barked order, McCoy had been quite unperturbed.

 

When McCoy displayed a state of utter calm, Spock found himself ascribing to the human emotion of ‘worry.’ The doctor had been _very_ serene as he came over the conn and explained that the Captain had broken several bones in his body, punctured his left lung, his liver, and his kidneys had failed. Jim had also suffered from severe malnutrition and dehydration on top of his numerous injuries. Doctor Marcus and Ensign  Chekov had negligible injuries but also suffered from the same accelerated dehydration and malnutrition exacerbated by being inside a fissure of rock, closer to the planet’s center.  

 

The Captain would be released for light bridge duty in nine-point-two-nine minutes from now.  Spock’s shift had already ended, but he found that his time was more efficiently spent by finishing up the few remaining reports so that they were ready for the Captain’s perusal.

 

His PADD beeped, and Spock saw a message from Nyota sent to his private comm address.

 

_You don’t need to be nervous._

_... and don’t bullshit me, Spock. I_

_know you’re nervous, emotionalism aside._

_He’s_ _fine_ _._

 

Spock did not allow himself to roll his eyes, but the action was difficult to suppress. Nytoa had, much like his mother, never had trouble seeing when he was nervous. The faint shame that Spock could not suppress his own emotional reaction enough was often obscured by the knowledge that she knew him better than any other. He privately surmised that Nyota knew he had not meditated since they had left the away team on the small planet and her message was a measure of reassurance.

 

Which was not necessary.

 

The bridge doors opened and Spock looked up from his PADD, only to immediately cast his gaze back down when he saw that it was an Ensign from the communications department and not the Captain.  Spock began to respond, but before he could, his PADD beeped, signifying another message.

 

 _And_ _don’t_ _tell me that ‘fine has variable_ _definitions,’ Spock. I’m aware of that fact._

 

Spock, who had been ready to respond with exactly that, allowed his lip to twitch downwards in a frown.

 

“Commander Spock, I am receiving a transmission, marked priority three, from a Doctor Thomas Leighton.”

 

Spock’s eyebrow rose. “On screen, Lieutenant.”  Spock was familiar with Dr. Leighton’s name in the scientific community, but could not imagine why he would be contacting a starship several lightyears out of spacedock.

 

“Yes, Sir.” Nyota’s voice held no inflection, no indication that she and Spock had been discussing the Captain’s well-being only moments ago. Spock knew that one of the many reasons that he and Nyota had ended their intimate relationship had been partially due to the fact that she had, in her own words, ‘acted unprofessionally, both on the Nibiru mission and later, near Kronos.’ Jim had scoffed at her worry, but Spock knew that it had troubled Nytoa enough that she has been unable to cease thinking of both incidents and modified her behavior to act more professionally.

 

Spock, whose eidetic memory had absolute, terrifying recall of Scotty calling him on the comm, of looking up and just _knowing_ that something was very wrong, and of his frantic pell-mell running to get to Engineering _now,_ and _hurryhurryhurry_ carefully gave no opinion on one’s potential to lose one’s emotional controls while on duty.

 

It would be more than a bit hypocritical of him.

 

“On screen, Commander.”

 

The screen lightened, showing an image of a man who, but for the mask that covered half of his face, looked utterly nondescript. There were faint scars under the edges of the mask, hinting at a visage ruined by some great trauma.

 

“Greetings. Excuse me, Commander, but my message was for Captain Kirk.” The man smiled briefly, insincerely, and Spock’s eyebrow rose.

 

“I am acting Captain. Please relay your message.”

 

The man’s brow knit and he stared at Spock silently as though weighing something. “I am Dr. Thomas Leighton. Please inform Captain Kirk that I have information regarding quadrotriticale, a synthetic grain that will prove to be most fortuitous for the starving folks on Cygenia Minor. Jim... excuse me. _Captain_ Kirk will want to know this message immediately.”

 

“Thanks for passing it along, Tom.”

 

_Jim!_

 

Only Spock’s Vulcan control kept his face impassive, not showing his surprise at Jim’s quiet entrance.

 

“Keptin on the bridge!” Chekov’s voice fairly sang with joy. The young ensign beamed at his captain, and Spock knew that the slight hero worship that Chekov had displayed after the Nadara incident had morphed into something almost sentient after their experience together on the away mission. Spock allowed himself to turn slowly as Jim made his slow way down the walkway to his bridge, eyes taking in information about Jim at an alarming rate.

 

“Good to see you, Tommy.” Even restrained and not directed at him, Jim’s grin continued to cause Spock’s heartbeat to increase. Spock had to quell an urge to touch Jim’s shoulder, or his elbow, just to reassure himself that Jim was indeed alive.

 

Spock stepped back, feeling the tips of his ears blush a faint green. He was acting absolutely ridiculous. Illogical.

 

_Human._

 

“Good to see you too, Jim.” The man, Thomas Leighton, stared at Jim much like a starving man did at a feast in front of him. Leighton, clearly felt some measure of affection for the captain. It was obvious in the way his whole demeanor changed, softening into that of an old friend instead of a stranger giving another stranger an impersonal message.

 

Spock found himself jerking his gaze from Jim back to the viewscreen. A bit belatedly, he stood up and moved to his left to give Jim room to take his Captain’s chair.  

 

“Listen, I don’t know what you heard, but you gotta check this grain out. It’s going to revolutionize the entire food industry, Jim. I mean- imagine if we’d--”

 

“Yes. Well, send your coordinates. I’m afraid that you caught me back from sick leave, so I have a bit to catch up on- not sure if I’ve got marching orders somewhere else. But if It can’t be me, I’ll make sure that--”

 

Leighton looked almost panicked- the half of his face not covered by the mask contorting for a moment before smoothing out into a smile. “No. It must be you, Jim. It’s...” The smile drained away, to be replaced by a singular intensity that made Spock  uncomfortable.  “It’s _important_.”

 

Spock looked down at Jim, who frowned briefly at the screen before answering with his best professionalism. “I’ll see what I can do, Tommy. I’ll let you know. Kirk out.”

 

The man disappeared from the viewscreen and their customary view of the stars replaced it.

 

“Well, that was exciting. It’s good to see an old friend. If we can swing it, I’d like to see what he wants.” Jim’s voice sounded oddly nervous, and Spock found that he wanted to do this small thing for his Captain.

 

“We have not as yet received orders from Starfleet.” They had not received orders because Spock had not filed the report that informed Command that Captain Kirk was released for duty, but he did not feel that detail pertinent to the conversation at this time, although Spock could practically _feel_ Nyota rolling her eyes in his direction. “It would be of no consequence to investigate.”

 

Jim’s bright smile was absolutely _devastating_.

 

There were still some superficial contusions on Jim’s face, and that with the bruises under his blue eyes, Spock felt himself needing to exert an almost painful level of control over his reaction. Jim had not smiled at him in so long that Spock had managed to, well, he did not forget things, but he certainly had oversimplified the necessity of mitigating the effect Jim’s smile had on his nervous system.

 

Spock found his gaze take in the pale cheeks, and slight tension in the way the Captain sat that fairly screamed that he was still not pain-free.   Jim’s smile faded, and Spock realized that he had been staring for much longer than was considered polite by human norms.  He took a step back and found himself uncharastically flustered by Jim’s proximity and his reaction to it.  

 

“I wish to remain on duty.” Spock inhaled so that his spine straightened. “Your physical state indicates that your performance will be less than optimal,” he said, knowing as he said it that it had not come out quite as he wished.

 

Jim clearly took offense. “You are dismissed, Mr. Spock.” Jim’s voice was low, his facial expression closed off.  Spock found himself nodding once, then turning and walking to the lift, unwilling to refuse a direct order, yet equally troubled by the dimming of Jim’s clear gaze at his words.  His PADD beeped, and Spock glanced down at it as the doors closed.

 

 _This_ _is why I tried to get you two to talk before he left!_

_He looks like you just kicked his puppy, Spock._

 

Spock jabbed the screen with more force than was strictly necessary to close Nyota’s message. He did not care to respond. Dr. McCoy was perhaps too hasty in releasing Jim to duty- even light duty. Jim looked to be in pain, and Spock knew from experience that a good bit of what was keeping Jim on the bridge was pure stubbornness.

 

The lift opened to his floor, and Spock allowed that his controls would clearly benefit from meditating. He was not expected on duty for several hours, and there were no experiments in the labs that needed his attention.

 

Spock entered his quarters and put out his meditation mat, lowered himself to it and lost himself in the familiar ritual. Mechanically, Spock ate and saw to his other nightly ablutions, before ordering the lights to zero and settling into bed.

 

Even after meditating, Spock’s sleep was fitful and less than fulfilling. His dreams were missing something, and Spock’s search to find it was endless and futile.

  


* * *

 

The flashing icon on his PADD indicated that Spock had missed two messages while he slept and showered.

 

The first was Gamma shift’s report of the hours with neither he nor Captain Kirk at the helm. It was standard, and had no other information other than that they had arrived to the Captain's ordered coordinates, and had assumed orbit around the planet.

 

The second message was from Jim.

 

_Commander, please meet me in my ready room at your earliest convenience._

_Cptn James T. Kirk._

 

Spock blinked, unsettled at the formality of Ji-- no. Captain _Kirk’s_ message.

 

One of the few things that Spock found he often struggled with was the concept of informality.  Starfleet had very clear expectations when it came to the chain of command. Its roots in military exploitation made the structure of superior to inferior and what to call them very explicit, yet did not often account for the human propensity to assign more familiar nicknames to one another.  Spock had found it privately yet highly amusing that he was referred to only as ‘Spock,’ as Starfleet had deemed his name unpronounceable when he first joined. His mother had snorted a laugh at the informality pressed onto one whose culture was almost renowned for their formal nature.

 

Personally,  Spock vacillated between ‘Jim’- The Captain’s preference from before, when they were speaking to one another, ‘Captain’- as was customary when referring to one’s XO, and ‘Captain Kirk’- used mostly when he was speaking to someone else about his captain.

 

Yet, he could not adequately articulate the feeling that caused  his stomach to swoop towards his boots when Spock read the Captain’s message. It should not have been medically nor physically possible, yet it took him four minutes of rereading the same message before he set the PADD onto his desk with fingers that absolutely did not shake. Spock straightened his shoulders and tugged down his uniform, under no illusions that this would in no way be a pleasant experience.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, feel free to follow me on  [Tumblr](http://1lostone.tumblr.com/)! 


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